


𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑈𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠

by Adrenalineshots, sonshineandshowers, TheFibreWitch



Series: Domino 🁡 [44]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Caregiving, Case Fic, Digital Art, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hallucinations, Harassment, Health Emergency, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Medication Management, Mental Health Issues, Metafiction, Murder Mystery, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Past Dosing, Side Effects, Surrealism, Teenage Bright, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator, Video, a lot of really strange stuff that happens in altered states of consciousness, anxiousness, reader-driven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:33:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26505985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adrenalineshots/pseuds/Adrenalineshots, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonshineandshowers/pseuds/sonshineandshowers, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFibreWitch/pseuds/TheFibreWitch
Summary: Selecting 𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑈𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠 from the bookshelf, Malcolm travels through his own mind.Read this story at:https://www.thedominostory.com/#running-upon-the-wiresThis book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read thePrefaceorIntroduction, please head there first.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Jackie Arroyo, JT Tarmel/Tally Tarmel, Malcolm Bright/Vijay Chandasara
Series: Domino 🁡 [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1926451
Kudos: 1
Collections: Domino 🁡, Prodigal Son Big Bang 2020 - Saturday Posts





	𝐃𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨 🁡 𝑅𝑢𝑛𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑈𝑝𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑊𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑠

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/gifts), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/gifts), [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Running Upon the Wires](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/685438) by Kate Tempest. 



> This book is one part of the Domino series. If you have not yet read the [Preface](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64577434#workskin) or [Introduction](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588537#workskin), please head there first.
> 
> Betaed by the wonderful [Jameena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jameena/), [MissScorp](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissScorp/), and [ProcrastinatingSab](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingSab/).
> 
> Credit to the creators and their works that inspired and were referenced in this work:  
>  **— Inspiration:**[Running Upon the Wires](https://www.bloomsbury.com/us/running-upon-the-wires-9781635570182/) \- Kate Tempest  
>  **— Cover Song:**[Tightrope](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pwnefUaKCbc) \- Janelle Monae [feat. Big Boi]  
>  **— Assets:**[Stock Photo](https://www.pexels.com/photo/time-lapse-photography-of-vehicles-passing-on-road-2168974/), [Prodigal Son Still](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prodigal_Son_\(TV_series\))

[](https://www.thedominostory.com/images/full/running-upon-the-wires.jpg) |   
---|---  
  
“I still don’t see anything,” Malcolm says, yawning from the back seat.

“Police work is patience,” Gil tells him, turning his head to look back at him. “You can take a nap if you want.”

“Police don’t nap.” That hadn’t appeared on any page of the NYPD handbook he’d read cover to cover.

“You’re not a cop quite yet, I think you can have this one,” Gil teases.

“Nah — training.” Malcolm rubs his eyes, smudges of eyeliner coming off onto his fists in the moonlight.

“Going for raccoon?” Gil jokes.

“It’s in,” Malcolm teases back. “Vijay would love it.” Would probably smear his own thumbs around in it, give him eyeblack, and try to kiss him. Malcolm could try to feign escape, but it isn’t worth it, more enjoyable to see the desire on the other teen’s face.

“Who’s VJ?”

“Vijay,” Malcolm corrects. “He’s only VJ when he’s fronting. He’s one of the only guys who will talk to me.” He could probably drop guys, say any people at all, but Gil worries enough — he doesn’t need to make it any worse.

“Where’d you go?”

“Movies on the grounds. Was better than pizza with Jemma — at least I didn’t get sick.” Still focused out the window, Malcolm spots movement. “Gil, I think there’s something northwest, up by the building.”

They both watch quietly for a few minutes. “Raccoon I think,” Gil says. “Good eye, though.”

Malcolm returns to staring out at his unmoving view. Focuses on areas that are guaranteed not to move in the hopes that anything that does will stand out all the more. “Are we going to take Jackie out while I’m home?”

“You pick the place, and we’ll go. If you want to bring someone, you can.”

“Ains.” The only person he ever really wants to share his Gil and Jackie time with. “So after school or on the weekend if possible.”

“Of course.” Gil looks into the backseat again. “You’re not sleepy at all?”

“It was a rough few days before you picked me up,” Malcolm admits, looking to see if he can catch any more activity. “I haven’t really slept.” 

Obedient as a well-trained dog, his thoughts trail after his father, on a long leash with enough rope to strangle himself when he tries to sleep. Several parts of him had been killed by his father’s malingering ways — he can’t even remember what they were.

“Did you tell Gabrielle?” Gil asks.

“No.”

“Your mom?”

“You know how that is.” His mother fusses so much, she often makes any problem worse for him to deal with. Most times he is lucky enough to avoid her darker moods these days when she overindulges in the liquor cabinet. He continues to be on the lookout for dosing his food, having been on the receiving end of a bad trip too many times. “I told you, Gil.”

“Thank you. I’m not the one in a position to help you with your medication, though.”

“Maybe I can stop taking it.” The thought’s been on his mind for weeks while he’s been awaiting break.

“No,” Gil says, whipping his head around to the backseat at the same time. “Who suggested that?”

Malcolm shakes his head. “It’s not important.” Would Gil’s reaction be worse if he knew it was his own conclusion? Would he track down the person if he said another specific person? The thought started from a variety of places, but he’d done his own research.

“If you stop taking your meds, everything gets worse. You can’t go back there, kid.”

“Shouldn’t I have a choice?” An opportunity to decide if some of the side effects are too much? He doesn’t want to stop them all — he just wants to change some.

“Shit, kid — you do. If you’re worried about it, we can talk about it with Gabrielle — you’ve gotta talk about it with her or another doctor. You can’t just stop. No matter who makes it sound appealing. Not Vijay, not any of the other kids.”

Gil sounds like a broken record, Malcolm’s respect for him the only thing keeping him from tuning him out. “It wasn’t him.”

“Okay. Promise me, Malcolm — talk to your doctor before changing anything.”

Malcolm looks at the floor. “I promise.” It’s not a conversation he looks forward to with Gabrielle. His fears of having it are almost greater than his frustration over his mood swings. Almost.

Malcolm can still feel Gil’s eyes on him, gauging whether the response is acceptable. “Why don’t we go home,” Gil says. “I’ll make you some of your tea, and maybe the three of us can watch a movie.”

Shit. “I wouldn’t have said anything if I knew you were gonna end the stakeout.”

"We can stay a little longer,” Gil says, turning around. “But I bet all we're finding is rats and raccoons."

Malcolm breathes a little easier that they don’t have to leave right that minute. "Do you think stakeouts in the FBI are like this?"

"Worse."

"Why's that?"

"You won't have me there," Gil jokes and Malcolm smiles. "You've thought about it more?"

"It's a maybe. Long ways away, you know?" Malcolm doesn’t even know if they’ll let the son of The Surgeon into their ranks. If he gets his hopes up, he’s bound to be disappointed.

"Time or distance?"

"Both.” Malcolm escapes the subject before his thoughts can turn. “Can I stay with you and Jackie this summer?"

"You know you're welcome. You also know what I'm gonna say."

"Talk to your mother,” Malcolm parrots. “I spend every break with you guys — of course that's where I wanna be."

“I’m glad, kid. Get her okay, and that’s where you’ll be.”

Malcolm looks out the window, his lip trembling at the thought of needing to ask his mother for something so important to him and her saying no. She sent him to boarding school without asking — did she have his whole summer planned out, too? “Can we go home?” Malcolm asks, his voice watery. If she says no and he doesn’t get to come back next month, he wants to spend the little time he has with both of them.

Gil looks back at him again, but Malcolm keeps his eyes trained out the window. “My ears are open,” Gil says, then starts the car. “Let’s go see Jackie.”

By the time they get home, a movie isn’t appealing, and all Malcolm wants to do is curl up. He goes into his bedroom to change but doesn’t end up coming back out. He’s ruminating on what got him stuck in bed when Jackie’s voice enters. “Would you like Jinxy?” she asks, her arms full of the fluffy, grey cat. Pliant as can be, the cat molds next to his chest when she sets her down and rubs underneath his chin. Instinctually, his hand goes into her fur, rubbing her back as she wriggles and purrs.

“I’m sorry,” he offers, knowing he got lost.

“It’s okay.”

“Can I have a hug?” he asks.

Jackie walks around the bed and sits beside him, hugging across his shoulders.

“I’m sorry — I don’t know what it is.”

“You don’t need to apologize for feelings.” She soothes his hair with her fingers. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Gil probably already told you.”

“How about you tell me?”

“I think the meds might be causing problems. I’ve been feeling off. Couple weeks now. Mood has been… unpredictable.”

“I’m sorry, honey. Have you been charting it?”

“Journal’s in the top of my backpack — you can look.”

She leaves him for a moment to retrieve the journal, then rests an arm around him while she reads. “Have you been taking your meds at the same time every day?”

“I’m trying,” he insists. “But sometimes I forget.”

“I know you’re trying.”

“I don’t like the side effects, Jackie. I just… don’t feel like myself.”

“Would it help if one of us took you to Gabrielle tomorrow and we talked about it?”

He nods, but he’s hesitant all the same. “Are you gonna tell my mother?”

“What’s going on with your mom?”

“I want to stay for the summer, Jackie,” he says, his words catapulting out on a runaway train. “I can’t go back to that house — I can’t.”

“Okay,” she says, stroking his hair. “Gil already talked to her. All that’s left is for you to ask.”

“She’s gonna say no, and panic, and say I’m spending too much time with you, and take control over what I’m taking — “ Malcolm has to stop to gasp for breath. “I don’t want — I don’t want — “

She rubs his back. “You're worrying yourself with tomorrow's troubles."

He can’t break the thought that if he talks to his mother, they’ll get separated — he’ll end up elsewhere. His breaths come faster, stealing the air from his chest.

“We’ll do it together, just like going to Gabrielle. Pet Jinxy, honey,” she says, petting his hair in the same manner. “Try to count every time you pet her.”

As he counts and pets, his breathing slows. He has to focus on Jinxy’s fur to keep breathing steadily, and he’s still not calm, but he settles enough to realize a wiry arm pokes out of his t-shirt. An equally wiry leg pokes out of the bottom of his pants. His hair must be strewn every which way, his face a sight to be condemned.

Attempting to shut off his brain, he smacks himself in the forehead, a loud slap bouncing off his skin and shattering Jackie’s ears. “No, honey,” she says, putting her arm between his forearm and his face. The river he cries doesn’t fill fast enough, doesn’t pull him under with raging rapids until his corpse flows downstream. “Bright, do you want Gil to come lay with us too?” Jackie asks, rubbing his back.

“P-please,” he stutters between tears. Try as he might to have a normal day out on a stakeout with Gil, it seemed to end in fucking hell.

Jackie holds her hand over his ear. “Babe?” she raises her voice to call for her husband. Gil comes running, his feet pattering down the hall. “Everything’s okay,” she says quickly. “Come lay next to me?”

Gil squeezes onto the bed behind Jackie, the three of them barely fitting. His arms wrap around the both of them, even reaching all the way to cover Malcolm’s hand petting Jinxy. “We’re both right here, Bright. We’ve got you,” he soothes.

Malcolm’s tears eventually cease, leaving his thoughts in a blur, drowsy. He drifts to sleep, his whole family holding him.

— ◌◯◌ —

“What kind of books do you like?” Dani asks, thumbing through an open copy of _The Memory Eaters_.

“Comics. History. Whatever Tally ropes me into when she’s reading for her book club,” JT says. “You?”

“Shorts I find online. Slam poetry. Things that say something.” Maybe the book she’s flipping through would speak to her if she took time to read the pages. It’s just a distraction though — they don't have time for enjoyment at the moment.

“‘Die’ is a pretty strong something.”

“Wouldn’t recommend this performance art.”

“Thirty-two,” JT says, pointing at the shelf in the office. “They missed at least one.”

Dani follows his indication and finds another A. S. Harper book at the end. “They haven’t been in here yet,” she corrects, CSU still focused on evidence collection in the other rooms. “Grab some tents to mark them.”

Dani sits in the reading nook waiting for JT to return. Books line floor to ceiling in the space, and a small army of white rabbits stare down at her from the top shelves. Light pours through the full length window, but it leaves her feeling restless, alone. Her hands itch to call Gil, to find if there’s any word yet, but she knows she would just be a bother.

“You take the bottom — I’ll take the top,” JT says, handing her half the stack of yellow tents.

“I’ve never heard of A. S. Harper before today, and now we’re looking for her books like we’re her biggest fans.”

“Anything that gets us closer to what’s going on.” JT moves to the window side and stands on the bench to reach the top shelves. “It’s pretty quiet without our friend, huh?”

Dani nods, surprised and grateful to hear JT call him a friend. Pain in the ass, chatterbox, profiler, or the even simpler Bright come to mind first when thinking of JT’s perspective. She’s glad to be proven wrong.

Looking at the bookshelf again, they have a shit ton of books to go through. She can’t decide whether it’s a blessing or a curse that they have the case to distract them, weighing that she’d rather be at Bright’s side, yet at the same time they’re more useful at the scene than the hospital. If their roles were reversed, Bright would definitely be at the scene.

“I think we might crack fifty,” JT comments, pulling Dani away from her reverie. She looks up to find several more yellow tents sitting on the shelves.

“These masks are hot as hell,” she responds and focuses on working on her own set of shelves.

“Safety over comfort.”

“Do I have a day of boss-sounding one-liners to look forward to?” she teases.

JT humphs. “Wait ‘til it’s your turn to do this. Payback, Powell.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Head back to the [Bookshelf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26497927/chapters/64588570#workskin) to pick another book. :)


End file.
